Meet the Sheridans
by Evil Shall Giggle
Summary: Sheridan and Delenn embark on a much needed, week long vacation to Earth, staying at the Sheridan family cottage, but it seems that anything that can go wrong will: dogs, the barbarious sport of fishing, allergies... and one wacky family!
1. Chapter 1

Be glad of life because it gives you the chance to love and to work and to play and to look up at the stars.

- Henry van Dyke

The sun was warm on my head and shoulders as I sat on the wooden dock that jetted out into the peaceful river. There was a slight breeze, just barely enough to stir the light strands of hair that hung over my forehead and rustle the leaves in the trees all around me.

John was sitting on the end of the dock, wearing what he referred to as 'trunks' and a loose t-shirt, a long slender fishing pole in hand. His feet dangled off the edge, and from what I could tell, they must have been just barely under the water's surface.

His mother, Mrs. Sheridan, had a seat in the shade of the overhanging trees, reading as I was. I'd borrowed the book I held from her, or rather, she'd given it to me, telling me that the men would be fishing for a while before we 'all went for a dip'. I was slightly unclear on what she'd meant by that, but reasoned it must have something to do with food, as last night's dinner had consisted of raw vegetables dipped in different sauces.

Mr. Sheridan was with John at the end of the dock, also with a fishing pole. I looked up from my book to watch when he gave an exclamation of surprise. He jerked on the pole, and then proceeded to turn a crank near the handle very fast. John was also watching the event, but with more excitement than I.

"Jesse!" Mr. Sheridan shouted, startling Mrs. Sheridan, "Get the net!" She sprung out of her chair with impressive speed for a woman of her age and rushed up to the small storage shed that was on solid ground behind us. Briefly, her top half disappeared inside it, and then she re-emerged with a large net. She hastened out to the end of the dock, net held out. Mr. Sheridan stretched out a hand and grabbed the nigh-invisible string, pulling it up and holding it still. The net was shoved under the water and then came up again, a large, brownish-green/gold, wriggling fish in it.

I stared, vaguely appalled but at the same time curious. From my standpoint as a vegetarian, this was barbaric. But from an inquisitive alien's view, it was fascinating. This was obviously a very old custom among Humans.

I stood, setting my book down and adjusting the towel I had wrapped around myself, and joined the others, standing behind John and looking on from there. Mr. Sheridan had his fingers inside the fish's mouth, removing the barbed hook from its cheek while it gulped for air. I bit my lip, feeling sorry for it. Finally, when it lay still in the older man's hand, Mrs. Sheridan and John leaned in to appraise it.

"It's gorgeous!" Mrs. Sheridan said, smiling. "Stand up with it, boys! I'll get the camera." She bustled away to her pack by her chair and returned with the desired object of her search. Standing a ways back, she motioned for John and his father to stand close together with the fish between them, and I went to move away so as to not disrupt the picture. I had not gotten more than a couple steps before John's arm caught me by the shoulders and pulled me to stand with them.

Startled, I stared at him, then at the fish, then finally back to the camera just as the light to signal the picture blinked on and off. I followed when they crowded around to see the photograph and flushed with embarrassment when I saw my face. I was turning, in the picture, my eyes wide with surprise and my mouth open in a strange expression. Mr. and Mrs. Sheridan tried very politely not to laugh, and John chuckled and patted my shoulder.

"Well," said Mr. Sheridan after a moment, "We have tonight's supper, so let's go swimming!"

"Here here!" agreed John, immediately pulling his shirt over his head. I looked away, strangely embarrassed, and returned to my book. Mr. Sheridan was quick to follow his son's example and was the first into the water, using the small ladder that hung off the dock. John was close behind, waiting only until his father was out of the way before getting a running start and jumping into the air. He tucked his knees up and hit the water with a huge splash that flicked droplets all the way to me. I smiled for a moment—he was so much more at ease here than he was on Babylon 5. I guessed that it was because he'd grown up here.

I stared in horror when he didn't come up again, holding my breath without meaning to. Had he gone too deep and hit the bottom? Had an undercurrent carried him away? Had a giant fish eaten him? I had begun to push myself to my feet to go to the edge of the dock to look for him when a cold, wet something latched itself onto my arm.

I jerked reflexively, biting back a scream that would certainly have been humiliating, and twisted to see what it was. It was a hand, attached to an arm that had stretched up over the edge of the dock and ended in the water.

"John?" I questioned worriedly, at the same time trying to free my hand and pull whoever it was out of the water, "John?!"

Suddenly, a head broke the surface, the face obscured by water-slicked hair. It shook itself back and forth to clear the hair away, flinging drops into my face. It was John, and he was grinning like a lunatic. I sighed in relief, rocking back on my heels and wiping my face of the water.

"You should have seen your face!" he laughed, setting his other arm onto the dock to hold himself up. "You looked like you'd seen a ghost." I gave him a disapproving look, and he wiped the grin from his face. "Sorry," he apologized. "I didn't realize you'd be worried about me." He was silent for a moment, then asked, "Are you coming in? The water's really warm."

I shook my head. "No, thank you. I'm quite happy here with this book."

"Aw," he pressed, childishly pouting a little, "C'mon, Delenn. You can read later."

"No, really," I insisted, settling back down. I self-consciously tugged my towel back up when it slipped down, exposing the bathing suit I'd been instructed to wear.

"Come on in, Delenn!" called Mrs. Sheridan from the water, beckoning.

"Yeah," enforced Mr. Sheridan, "The water's great!"

I gave them a little smile, "No, thank you."

John must have picked up on my discomfort. "What is it?" he asked kindly, righting himself from floating on his back.

"Minbari do not swim," I explained. "We regard water as something to be respected for its power and necessity to all life. To immerse oneself in it would be… dangerous."

"There're no dangers here," John told me gently, placing a hand on my arm. I felt bumps rise around it from its chilly wetness. I nodded.

"I know," I said, "but… it is difficult to go against something one has been taught all one's life."

"At least dangle your feet in the water," he urged. "Then, you can get used to it, maybe come in later." At his pleading look, I had trouble finding the words to refuse, and so I slowly swung my legs over the edge, cautiously lowering them until my toes met water. It had taken me so long to even get used to showering and cleaning myself the human way, and I had a feeling that becoming accustomed to this would be even harder. John saw my trepidation about even having so little in contact with the water and gave one of my hands a little squeeze.

He pushed off the dock and stroked out a little ways, then turned and ducked under. He was a pale, yellowish form as he returned to me, but as he came closer, I could see him more clearly. He surfaced and stayed stationary in front of me, his head and shoulders bobbing back and forth strangely. In the deep, I could see his legs kicking to keep him afloat, which would explain the odd movement. He gave me a smile and sank under again.

I felt my heart flutter in concern as he faded into a rippling blur, then disappeared completely. I leaned over, searching for any sign of him to reassure myself with, but found nothing. There was a splash from the other side of the dock and I turned to look. He'd come up over there and gave me a little wave when he saw that I'd seen him.

He didn't come back directly to me, though, but rather went over to where his parents were floating leisurely on brightly coloured floatables and so I was left to stare down at the dark water beneath me, watching for fish or anything that could potentially pose a danger to me.

He returned eventually, and greeted me by lightly tweaking my toe. I smiled despite myself at his efforts to put me at ease.

"I haven't gotten pulled under by anything," he said, holding up his hands so that I could see that they were intact, "and the current here is pretty much non-existent. You could come in."

"I'm fine here," I replied, still smiling. He grinned back at me and seemed to be about to say more, but a shout from the house at the top of the hill cut him off.

"Hello?" someone was calling.

"We're down here!" Mr. and Mrs. Sheridan yelled back. Children's voices could be heard faintly, and soon there was a patter of footsteps on the path down to the river.

"Careful!" a woman warned, but it seemed to be to little effect as a young girl and boy came running down onto the dock. "The dock's probably wet!"

They trotted out to the end of the dock, not even noticing me, stripped off their clothes, revealing colourful bathing suits, and jumped straight into the water. I stared, awed by their bravery, frowned at my own silly cowardice that seemed so evident now and pulled my towel off.

The bathing suit John's mother had lent me was of a rather dated design, a simple black one-piece with straps that covered my entire shoulders, but it felt like it fit properly. I saw John staring at me, wondering what I was doing. Taking a deep breath, I pushed myself off the wooden slats and into the water.

I sunk immediately, wondering distantly how John and the others managed to stay afloat. I watched the light from the surface fade as I unwillingly headed for bottom, uselessly struggling to copy John's movements to stop my descent. It was dark and murky, and my insides clenched in basic fear. The bottom loomed toward me, blurry brownish lumps. Something moved and I flinched. I was smart enough, however, not to try to breathe, and I tilted my head back to look upwards and stretch my hands up as one of my feet landed on a slimy something—probably a rotting log. I slipped down off it and found myself standing on cold sand. My ears stung, most likely from the pressure, my lungs began to ache, demanding air, and I saw a large whitish thing with a bright red middle come toward me. It took me a moment but as it got closer, I could pick out features and realized it was John.

He grabbed my hands and pulled, to little effect. Was I that heavy? Time seemed to be slowing down, and I had time to reason that if I was, it was because of the bone plating across my back and chest that hadn't disappeared during my transformation. He managed to swim even deeper and grab me by the middle. I felt an odd sensation and the urge to laugh. Bubbles blew out my mouth as I did, even though I wasn't sure why, and miraculously, my lungs stopped hurting for a brief moment. He pushed off bottom with my in his grasp, kicking hard to get up to the surface. I held still, wishing I could aid him but knowing that if I tried, I would only be a hindrance. I was transferred to be carried with one arm, while he used the other to help himself swim. Finally, we broke the surface and I gasped for air, stretching my arms out to grab the edge of the dock.

"Are you okay?" he asked me, worry clearly written over his face. I was still refilling my lungs and didn't reply. "Delenn?" he asked again, "are you alright?"

"Yes," I said eventually. He came up beside me and put a caring arm around my shoulders, squeezing gently.

"I'm sorry I pressured you into—" he began, but a delighted shriek cut him off.

"Johnny!" a middle-aged blond woman cried, running over to us and leaning down to embrace him. The arm around me disappeared and I shivered without it.

"Lizzie," he greeted her warmly.

"Will, Jenny," she called. Two small heads appeared at the end of the dock. "Come say hi to Uncle Johnny!" The two kids paddled around to cling to the dock beside John. He turned to greet them, embracing each in turn.

"You've grown!" he exclaimed to both. They grinned proudly, revealing many missing teeth. "How old are you now? Eight? Nine?"

"No," the boy, presumably Will, shook his head but grinned even wider, "Five."

"Hi," Lizzie said. I turned toward her, looking up. "You're Delenn, right?"

"Yes," I said, giving her a smile even though I was still trembling from nearly drowning.

"I'm Lizzie," she told me, "John's sister."

"My _little_ sister," John put in, "So don't let her tell you otherwise."

"And those are my kids," she continued, studiously ignoring her brother's interjection, "Will and Jenny. They're twins."

A sudden weight applied itself to my head and I very nearly lost my hold on the dock. Lizzie, looking horrified, exclaimed, "Jenny! Stop it!"

John took the child in his hands and pried her off my headbone, apologizing and scolding her simultaneously.

"You're a Min-_baw_-i," she giggled, paddling about in the water nearby.

"Don't really look like a Minbari." Will got his word in.

"You're a weird Minbari," Jenny deduced. Though it was just childish gibberish, it stung. Nevertheless, I gave the two a little smile and a nod.

"Yes," I said in Adronato, "I am Minbari."

They held absolutely still for a moment, staring at me, then burst into hysterical laughter.

"Say it again! Say it again!" Jenny shrieked.

"Jennifer!" hissed Lizzie, "shush. Come up here. You too, William." The two did as they were told, chastised. "I'm sorry about that," she said sincerely.

"It's alright," I assured her. They were just children, after all.

**Now, being as this is set in mid-to-late third season, it's a little AU. It's after Sic Transit Vir, is pretty much all I know, and some things have been changed. Anyway, other than that, it agrees with the general plotline of the show (minus the few details that I've forgotten about, shame on me). Hope you enjoyed it, and there will be more to come.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Dinner that night was a rather large affair. Mrs. Sheridan, Lizzie, and I were in the kitchen, preparing various dishes (I had learned several new skills already, including how to peel potatoes, carrots, and turnips). I had just begun to chop some round, whitish vegetables when John and Lizzie's husband, Robert, entered. My eyes began to sting as they chatted lightly with Mrs. Sheridan, inquiring after the state of the chicken, beers in hand. Startled by the tears that were forming, I blinked rapidly, wiping at them hastily. Why was I crying? There was nothing sad here.

John saw my reddened face and rushed over. "Delenn!" he exclaimed, though not so loud as to attract the others' attention. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," I said honestly, wiping at another tear that dripped down my cheek.

"It's the onions," he said, chuckling. "They've got some sort of acid in the juice that gets into the air, and hurts our eyes."

I clumsily pushed the knife down through the onion—what a strange word—again, in the process slicing my thumb a little. It promptly began to bleed. "Ouch," I murmured, though the blade had been so sharp that it had barely hurt.

"Here," John said, going to the cupboard for a small box. From it, he took out a bandage and wrapped it around my wounded thumb with careful fingers.

"Thanks," I said, wiping at my eyes again. His own were watering a little, just from being in proximity to the onions. He grinned and followed my example of clearing his eyes.

Despite the obvious discomfort the vegetables were causing him, he seated himself at the counter next to me while I resumed my work. I was slow, and the chunks I cut were oddly shaped and always seemed to fall apart before I could entirely separate them from the main part of the onion. After I struggled through a couple minutes, he took over.

His hands were efficient and skilled, and within sixty seconds, he had reduced the remaining three onions to cubes. He handed them over to his mother, who put them into a large glass dish with the carrots, turnips, and potatoes. She sprinkled some strange looking, shrivelled red things onto it, and then stuck it in the oven.

Brushing her hands off on her apron, she turned to me and John. "Thanks," she said, "That's pretty much everything. If you guys wanna head on outside, go ahead."

John grabbed his half-empty beer bottle from the table and made for the door and motioned for me to come as well. Obediently, I followed, and we joined Robert, Mr. Sheridan, the children, and Bonzo, their dog, on the porch.

The large golden animal bounded over as soon as we were outside, pouncing on John and standing on his hind legs with his forepaws bracing him against the Human. I took a subtle step back, no big fan of dogs, cats, or gokks. I'd had one as a child, and it was an experience I'd vowed never to repeat. He tousled its head-hair in a friendly manner.

"Hey there, big guy!" he said enthusiastically. "Ooof—okay! Time to get down before you knock me over!" I watched, wary but also amused as he struggled with the dog. Finally, he managed to set the animal back on all fours and came over to join me by the railing.

The porch was more of a balcony, overlooking the steep hill that led down to the river. It was surrounded by loosely-packed, oddly shaped conic trees, with the neighbouring cottage just barely visible to the right. Birds chirped somewhere in the twilight, and there was an annoying noise near my ear, between a whine and a buzz.

John's hand smacked me suddenly on the side of the head. I stared at him in hurt shock, putting my own hand to where he'd hit me.

"There was a mosquito," he explained. My expression didn't change, and so he gave me further information. "They're biting insects. They leave itchy red marks on Humans, but I'm not sure what they might do to you. I'm sorry I hit you, but trust me, you probably would not have been happy if I hadn't."

I gave him a smile in thanks. There was a snicker from behind us, and we turned to see Mr. Sheridan.

"You shouldn't trust him," he said deviously, "he used to do that all the time to me, except there was never a mosquito."

"But there was!" John protested, holding up his hand where there was a faint smear of red and brown. "See?" Mr. Sheridan shrugged and gave me a look that said, 'Don't say I didn't warn you about him', and departed.

John, glancing down at his dirty hand, seemed to realize something. Looking faintly embarrassed, he muttered, "Turn that way for a second," gesturing so that I turned to show him the place where he'd killed the insect. His hand went there again, but gently this time, wiping at something. It occurred to me that he was wiping away the remains of the mosquito he'd killed against my head and I felt my stomach twist a little. "Sorry about that," he apologized again.

Knowing he had had good intentions throughout the whole ordeal, I forgave him easily with a peaceful smile. Inside, I felt like I was some sort of awkward, outdated machine, clumsy in my new and foreign environment.

"Dinner!" came a shout from inside. Mrs. Sheridan and Lizzie paraded out the door, laden with various full dishes that they set on the outdoor table. Will and Jenny rushed over and plunked themselves down immediately, not waiting for the others to even be seated before heaping their plates with food.

I followed John to the table, taking a seat with my back to the railing. He sat on my right, followed by Robert. At each end were one of the two eldest Sheridans, and on the side opposite me were, from left to right, Will, Jenny, and Lizzie.

I was infinitely thankful for John's quiet instructions to me of what to do when and what not to do (there was to be no meditating upon the food tonight, but there was a curious murmured blessing of sorts in which Mr. Sheridan thanked someone whom I could only assume to be the owner of these lands for providing them with the meal). I pushed a small part of each type of food to the side of my plate—even though there was no set place for him, I was determined to not let Valen go hungry, should he return.

We ate in comfortable silence for a while, but once people's appetites were somewhat sated, conversations sprung up. John discussed 'baseball' with Robert and Mr. Sheridan, while Lizzie got a word in every so often. Will taunted Jenny until their mother interfered. Mrs. Sheridan tried to include room for me in the talkative family.

"So," she said, "will you tell us about what you do on Babylon 5?"

"Of course," I agreed readily, "I—"

"No work," John interrupted. "Mom, Delenn and I agreed before we got here that there would be no discussion of Babylon 5 while we're here."

"Oh," his mother was undeterred. "Well then, what about Minbar? None of us here know anything about it, really."

"What would you like to know?" I asked, happy to talk about home.

"Do you have a dog?" inquired Will.

"No," I said, "but when I was young, my father bought me a gokk."

"What's a gokk?" Jenny asked curiously.

"They're rather similar to dogs," I explained, "about the same size, perhaps a little bigger. They have thick fur and come in all colours, just like dogs, but they have six legs instead of four. They also have considerably larger teeth."

Jenny giggled. "Six legs? Like a bug?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "My knowledge of Earth insects is limited."

"Doesn't matter," Will said decidedly. "You said you had one. Tell me 'bout it."

"My father bought him for me when I had just turned one," I said, "or, in standard years, three, not long after my mother joined the Sisters of Valeria. It was larger than I was at the time, and I was terrified of it. I hid in my room with the door locked until my father assured me that he'd shut it up in his bedroom, and that it was perfectly safe for me to come out. I never got over my fear of him, shamefully. I used to dread coming home from temple because I knew that he would be waiting just inside the door, and would pounce on me and lick my face—which was no stretch for him as I was forever his junior in height—when I entered.

"However, gokks have very short life spans: no more than a few months. When he died, I found myself sad. Though I had hated him and was terrorized by him, I'd gotten used to his frightening presence. I missed him after he was gone."

"What was his name?" asked Jenny.

"He did not have one," I told her. "Among Minbari, names are something reserved only for sentients. To name an animal could be considered an insult to all Minbari."

The children's curiosity about Minbari pets satisfied and their attention span used up, they turned their attention to their grandfather, who was detailing a recent game of what sounded like rug-be.

"If you don't mind me asking," said Mrs. Sheridan, quietly enough that only I would hear her, "what's going on between you and Johnny?"

I resisted the urge to flush. "We are friends," I answered, still considering the question after I'd replied. Just before we'd left the station, there had been that 'kafuffle', as I'd heard Mr. Garibaldi put it, over Vir and his fiancé, and of course, the good-hearted attempt at flarn that John had made for me. And then, the day after that, when I helped him with the fasteners on the uniform I'd ordered for him and the rest of the command staff and we had come so close to kissing. Did that make us more than friends? I wondered. Probably. But how would I phrase that for John's parents? It would be embarrassing, I decided, and agreed with myself to leave our status at 'just friends'.

* * *

After dinner, when we were down on the dock, watching the moon on the water, Lizzie seemed to be having similar curiosities to her mother. I could feel her eyes on me as I sat with John, his arm around me. It sounded like a romantic gesture, I thought to myself, but the only feelings in it were warmly friendly.

A fish jumped out in the middle of the river, sending out rings of ripples over the otherwise still surface. There was a very faint, cool breeze, just barely enough to make me, in my light summer robes, shiver. I pulled the blanket that John had draped over our legs up to my chest and felt his arm tighten subtly to lend me extra warmth.

Mr. Sheridan and Robert were seated on the edge of the dock, fishing again. Lizzie was snuggled against her mother, who dozed peacefully. Fluff, one of their cats, was prowling about lazily, her paws surprisingly silent for an animal of her weight.

"Want to go for a boat ride?" John asked me unexpectedly. I looked around for a boat.

"I do not see a vessel," I replied.

"It's behind the shed," he told me. "Want to go?"

Boats were another thing that Minbari did not do with water. Because there were no oceans on Minbar, we did not need them for exploratory purposes. Nevertheless, I was here to experience Human customs first hand.

"I would," I agreed bravely, hoping this wouldn't turn out like my attempt at swimming. He stood and offered me a hand up, which I took though it was not necessary. We clambered up the steep hill that attached the dock to the mainland and sure enough, behind the shed, there was a long, narrow boat. With some effort, we picked it up and carried to the water.

It was a simple design: a hard, sleek metal frame that curved in at each end. It had two seats, cross-beams with strong mesh connecting them. Within it were four long wooden poles with one broad end, a whistle, and three large, puffy jackets.

John hopped in first, and I watched it wobble dangerously as it adjusted to his weight. He held it steady, bracing it against the dock, while I climbed in to join him. Turning to the others, he asked, "Anyone else want to join us?"

"Nah," said Mr. Sheridan, "both seats are taken already."

"No thanks," said Robert. Lizzie shook her head, but she looked rather like she might have wanted to come. Curious about her strange behaviour but more eager to go out on this expedition, I put it out of my mind.

John handed me one of the long poles and instructed me to put on one of the jackets. I slipped my head through the hole at the top, but when I looked at his, I realized mine was on backwards. I pulled it around to my front and did the buckle.

He stuck the broad end of his pole into the water and backed us away from the shore. I watched, twisting awkwardly around the huge jacket to see him over my shoulder.

"You've never been in a boat before," he said, seeing me watching him, "have you?"

"No," I said.

"Well," he said, "it's easy enough. Just stick the end of the paddle—" I assumed he was talking about the pole, "—in the water, and push it backwards to propel us forward."

I did as instructed, and found it harder than it appeared. The water provided such resistance that I almost dropped the paddle on my first try. We were moving, though. I expected that was more John's doing than mine, but I stuck my paddle in another time and tried again. And again. And again.

And eventually, it became easier.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

It was not a fast journey, but we progressed along the river without too much excess time to admire the moonlight-drenched scenery. After what must have been at least a quarter of an hour, the trees on our left side were replaced by a rock wall around ten feet tall with a droopy tree on its top that trailed long branches all the way to the water. John steered us in toward it, and I was thankful for the reprieve when we stopped beside it. My hands were sore from rubbing against the wooden shaft, and muscles in my back I'd never used so much ached.

"I used to come here all the time when I was a kid," he told me. Carefully, I turned around to face him, extremely wary of the rocking I caused the boat. "Liz and I would take the canoe down here and we'd jump off the cliff into the water." He chuckled at the memories. "Have you ever tried getting into a canoe from the water? Well, no, I guess you wouldn't have, but it's not easy."

"I would imagine not," I agreed, smiling. It was peaceful here, with more of a breeze than there'd been back on the dock. The willow swayed gently and I reached up to touch one of its tendrils that hung down above my head.

A sudden, familiar _be-reep_ shattered the quiet. John dug in his pockets to find his comlink and pressed the button. "You have one incoming message," said an automated voice.

"Patch it through from the house comm.," he ordered. There was another beep and Mr. Garibaldi's voice sounded in the canoe.

"John?" he questioned.

"Here," John replied.

"We've got a problem," Garibaldi said tersely. "Is there anyone else there? You might want to take this privately."

"I don't have my earpiece with me," John told him. "It's just Delenn with me. Is that okay?"

"Yeah, sure, it's fine," he said, "Sorry to interrupt."

"No problem," John said, looking at me apologetically. I nodded in acceptance; this was his job as Captain. It was to be expected that he would be contacted at some point while away for this week. "Now, what's going on out there?"

"The Pak'ma'ra have sealed off part of the alien sector," Garibaldi informed us. "They say it's for a religious ritual, but there are a few residents of other races trapped inside the zone. Normally, this wouldn't be a problem, but the Pak'ma'ra are threatening to file a complaint to their government if we force them to open the area so the others can get out, and they're demanding to speak with you."

John's mouth twisted into an annoyed frown. "Tell them I'll talk to them in twenty minutes. I've gotta get back to the house."

"I'll tell them," Mr. Garibaldi said, then asked, "Mind if I ask where you are?"

"In a canoe," John responded, "On the river."

Michael Garibaldi chuckled. "Sounds nice."

"It is," John commented. "Sheridan out." He shut the communicator down and gave me another apologetic grimace. "I'm sorry." It was heartfelt and honest, and I forgave him easily.

"It's alright," I assured him, reaching down to pick up my paddle. "We should return to the dock."

* * *

Once back, I retired to the cabin with him, not willing to be alone his parents and Lizzie. While he spoke to the Pak'ma'ra ambassador, I changed into my nightgown in the bathroom, trying not to listen. Despite my efforts, I caught bits and pieces of their conversation, but not enough to deduce what the problem with opening the doors of the self-imposed quarantine zone was.

When the conversation ended, I'd long finished changing, brushing my hair, and otherwise getting ready to sleep, and had seated myself on the edge of the small bathtub, waiting. I opened the door and headed for my suitcase with the bundle of my clothes, but stopped short. I supposed I'd waited just a little too long after the short conference had ended, which had given John the idea that I would be another few minutes in the bathroom. He was half-undressed when I entered the room. Uttering an embarrassed apology, I back-pedalled swiftly into the bathroom again.

A minute or so later, there was a knock on the door. I opened it to find John standing outside, looking slightly embarrassed as well.

"Sorry about that," he mumbled, "I thought you were going to be a little while in there."

"It's alright," I dismissed it with more ease than I actually felt, slipping past him in the doorway. Once out in the main room, I looked around. Where was I to sleep? Will and Jenny had taken over John's old room on the right, and Lizzie and Robert's things were in the middle bedroom. His parents would probably take the largest bedroom on the left, which left both me and John out of a place to lie down. There was a couch, though, so I assumed that was where I was supposed to sleep.

I arranged the pillows to make the couch as non-horizontal as possible and then lay down, pulling the blanket that had been draped over one arm of the sofa up over me. I shifted around, trying to get comfortable with little success. The couch's fabric was rough and scratched against my bare legs and arms, and despite all the pillows I'd piled up, I couldn't get the impression that I was very much horizontal out of my mind. I was still rolling about when John emerged from the bathroom.

"That couch pulls out," he told me. "Here, get up. I'll set it up for you."

I stood up gratefully, and watched as he went about doing strange things to the poor piece of furniture's frame. Footsteps were heard on the porch, and Mr. and Mrs. Sheridan entered the cottage, followed by Robert and Lizzie. John's father immediately came over to help him with the couch, while the others proceeded to ready themselves for bed.

To my surprise, the couch transformed itself into a large double bed at John's and his father's hands. Mr. Sheridan joined the others in preparation for sleep, but John fetched a large sheet and blankets from a tiny closet and laid them out on the mattress. He looked somewhat embarrassed by their floral design, muttering that they were his mother's and to ignore them. I smiled, and asked if this was where he would sleep, or where I would sleep. The pink on his cheeks deepened to red.

"There's, um…" he said quietly, "there's only this. I think mom planned it so that we'd have to sleep together tonight. She's always tried to play matchmaker for me and Liz and our partners. I can sleep on the floor though, I don't mind."

"John," I said, "don't be silly. It's a large bed. There will be plenty of space for both of us." When he still looked unconvinced that he wouldn't be making me uncomfortable, I added, "Besides, you need this week to rest more than I do. If either of us is going to sleep on the floor, it will be me."

"Delenn," he sighed. "I'm not going to let you sleep on the floor." I climbed into the bed, snatching three pillows from where they'd fallen to the ground and putting them behind me in an attempt to make myself less horizontal.

"Then get into the bed," I said firmly, lifting an arm to show him all the extra space between me and his side of the bed. "Because I am not going to let you sleep on the floor either."

He sighed again and shook his head slightly. "Are you sure? I really don't mind sleeping on the fl—" I gave him a disapproving stare and he cut his own sentence off. "Right."

The bed sunk down as he got into it, perching himself on the far edge to give me as much space as I could possibly want. I lay back and watched him, faintly amused, as he settled on his side, his back to me. I judged the distance between us to be more than an arm's length, perhaps almost one and a half.

Lizzie came out from the bathroom and saw us both in the bed. I caught the disapproving look she cast at us as she walked by on her way to her room, Robert in tow. It stung a little to know she disliked me; she was a member of John's close family. And to know that it was because of something that was not true? It only made it frustrating.

However, I was tired at the moment, not yet adjusted to the time difference here, and chose to ignore her. Perhaps I would speak to her about it tomorrow, but for the meantime, I wanted to sleep.

"Good night," I said to the married couple. Lizzie gave me a nod in acknowledgement.

"Good night," returned Robert, glancing uneasily at his wife. They retreated behind the closed door of the middle bedroom, and shortly after, Mr. and Mrs. Sheridan replaced them in the main room.

"Good night," they said.

"'Night, mom, dad," John murmured, apparently already half-asleep.

"Good night," I wished them, and then they, too, disappeared into their bedroom. "Good night, John," I whispered.

He took a moment to reply, as if trying to process what I'd said. "G'night, Delenn," he returned drowsily. A moment later, I heard a soft snore and smiled.

* * *

Despite how tired I'd been last night, I awoke while it was still dark as a combination of old habits and a lack of adjustment to Earth time. A glance at the chronometer told me that it was just after three o'clock—six o'clock on Babylon 5—and I sighed. I'd not rested well; the horizontal plane of the bed had prevented me from falling deeply asleep all night; the pillows I'd put under me had long since been pushed away.

I turned my head to look at John. He'd migrated somewhat toward the middle of the bed, and I now estimated that if I were to try, I could reach him without stretching too much. He was stirring as well; I supposed that five would have been his normal wake-up time and I was glad that he'd slept in at least a little. His eyes opened slowly, closed again, and then came up the rest of the way.

They widened for a moment as he registered my face and his surroundings, as though he was confused, but then he seemed to remember where he was and why, and calmed down. He gave me a sleepy smile.

"What time is it?" he asked in a whisper.

"Three o'clock," I replied. He groaned quietly.

"Three?" he rubbed at one eye, "only three?" I nodded.

"What time does the sun rise on Earth?" I asked.

"During the summer," he responded, "usually around six."

"We should try to sleep more," I said, but I knew I wouldn't be able to. Once I was awake, I was awake for the day. It was his turn to nod, and he closed his eyes. I watched him for a long moment as he evened out his breathing.

He cracked one eye open and focussed it on me. I smiled at him.

"I can't sleep anymore," he told me.

"Neither can I," I replied. "Once I've woken, I find it obscenely difficult to fall back to sleep."

"It's the same for me," he said. I rolled over onto my stomach and propped myself up on my elbows, looking out the window above us at the stars.

"Is Minbar's sun visible from Earth?" I asked.

"Yep," he said, pushing himself up into a similar position to mine. He raised an arm to point at a bright star in between two trees. "Right there."

I looked at it and smiled, suddenly feeling a lot closer to home. "I'm in my own sun's light," I said. He grinned warmly as he watched my expression. "It's strange," I mused, "I can travel from Minbar to Earth in a week, but the light from my sun that left it the year I was born hasn't reached here yet." The thought made me feel oddly sad. My smile faded and I stretched out my left arm, reaching for my star. With one eye squinted closed, I could almost imagine that the star sat atop my index finger.

John's left hand closed around my right, squeezing gently. I dropped my arm and turned my gaze to him, my eyes stinging. "I am so far from home, John," I whispered.

He held my hand kindly, and drew me to him, holding me tightly against his chest. I wound one arm around his back, while my other took a fistful of his sleep-shirt. I trembled with the effort to keep my tears in, and when I inhaled, my breath was sharp and loud. "I'm sorry," I apologized unevenly. "It's just that I don't even seem to _have _a home anymore. I am still rejected by many of my own people; I am not welcome on Minbar. Being Minbari, I am not welcome on Earth."

"Don't say that," he told me, "You're welcome here, with us." I said nothing. "Don't take Lizzie seriously. She's not angry at you because you're Minbari, she's angry at you because she thinks we're… well, you know, together."

"We are not together right now?" I queried, wiping at my eyes though no tears had fallen.

"Well," he looked somewhat awkward, and I supposed I'd asked a silly question again. Nevertheless, I felt myself cheering up as I recalled a slightly flirtatious conversation we'd had of a similar nature just a week ago when he'd asked me to dinner in his quarters. Oh, that dinner had _not _gone well. "We are together physically—no! No, no that's not what I meant. I mean, we are nearby each other right now, but what I was talking about is that Liz thinks that we're together in the sense that—let's just say she thinks we're a couple."

"Oh," I said, understanding. In all honesty, I had guessed that somewhat, but his explanation of it had taken my mind off my self-pity and my eyes were draining.

I probably should have retreated back to my side of the bed now that I had stopped almost-crying, but I was experiencing no desire to leave John's embrace. I tucked my head down again, closing my eyes. I might actually be able to fall asleep here…

And then I felt his lips press against the top of my head. I looked up, meeting his gaze as his thumb brushed against my cheek tenderly. I returned the gesture, snaking up a hand to lay it against the side of his face. Slowly, giving me plenty of time to pull away, he leaned down towards me. I stopped him with my hand exerting a subtle pressure on the front of his cheek and he looked slightly hurt and embarrassed until I smiled and shifted my hand to behind his ear, moving over the foreign flesh with interest. I held his eyes with mine, searching the greyish orbs for something—what I was looking for, I wasn't sure myself, but I suppose I must have found it because I closed the minimal remaining distance between us and brought his lips to mine.

It was a Human mating ritual, but it felt so natural. Granted, I'd never experienced Minbari mating rituals before either, so I had little to compare it to, but I couldn't imagine that anything could feel better. That is, of course, until I felt his tongue flick across my lips, requesting entrance—which I promptly permitted. I lack the words in Interlac to describe the feeling, but I can say that I found myself instinctively winding my arms around his neck and back, holding him closer. One of his hands, likewise, had gone behind my head to rest on my headbone and twine its lower digits into my hair, also keeping me close, while the other stroked my back, exploring the curve of my midriff, hip, and lower back.

I was dimly aware that I was slowly shifting to lie on my back, with John repositioning himself above me, his weight supported by his arms as he turned his head to trail kisses down my jaw line and neck. A soft moan escaped me as I wove the fingers of my left hand into his hair and tilted my head back to grant him fuller access. My right hand, seemingly of its own accord, drifted down along his torso to where his shirt ended. I snuck my fingers under it, flicking at the warm flesh I found beneath and heard his breath catch.

He raised his head to look me in the eyes for a moment as if he was confirming something, and then set his mouth against mine again, firmly. I grew bolder and planted my hand wholly against his skin, moving it over his back and marvelling at the taunt muscles I discovered there. I gasped when I felt his hand doing some exploring of its own. It flitted over my thigh, and then as it travelled upwards along my side, I realized that my nightgown must have been bunched up quite high for some time now. His hand continued its journey across my stomach and then upwards, but he carefully avoided my breasts. Admittedly, I wasn't sure if this was a good or bad thing, but it was deemed unimportant as he planted more heated kisses down my neck and shoulder.

I was fairly certain of what might have happened had someone not chosen that precise moment to cough in their sleep. The sound pierced through the haze in our minds, bringing us back to ourselves enough to realize that this was probably not a good idea. He rolled off me, and I moved sideways to put some measure of space between us. I missed his warmth instantaneously.

My cheeks were flushed and my heart still pounded powerfully within my ribcage, and I wanted desperately to continue what we'd started, but I knew that to go… _there_ would definitely be a bad idea in this place, at this time. I raised my eyes to look at him.

"John…" I murmured, almost shyly, "I—"

"Sh," he whispered softly, holding a finger to his lips. "Turn that way," he instructed, indicating the direction away from him. Confused but not in a state of mind to argue with him, I turned, pulling my nightgown back down over my hips as I did so. To my surprise, I felt him pull me to him so that my back touched his chest.

"John—" I began to warn him, but he made no move to restart our… mutual exploration of one another, instead only placing a chaste kiss on my cheek and draping an arm comfortably over my middle.

"Good night, Delenn," he wished me quietly from near my ear. I smiled and snuggled back against him, taking the hand that he'd put over me and bringing it up to hold it with both of mine just above my chest.

"Good night," I returned.

Being tucked up to John was soothing, not to mention warm and _comfortable_, and I'd soon found my eyes to be drifting closed, though it took me another few minutes to actually lose myself in unconsciousness on account of my mind being so… alert.


	4. Chapter 4

I did sleep though, and when I next opened my eyes, the grey light of a cloudy morning poured in through the window. I was still tucked securely beside John, with one of his legs woven through mine and his hand still held tightly in mine. I raised my head to look around to see if the others were still asleep and found that two of the doors (the twins' and Robert's and Lizzie's ) were open. From what I could see, their towels were also missing from the porch railing, so I deduced that they had gone down for an early morning swim. I shuddered mentally at the thought.

A strange mewing sound drew my attention to my ears. I listened closely to locate where the noise had come from. A moment later, my efforts went to waste as a small, mottled grey cat jumped up onto the bed. It looked at me intently and meandered over.

"Hello there," I said, sacrificing one of my hands from holding onto John and reaching out slowly toward the animal. I wasn't nearly as afraid of cats as I was of dogs, as they were, for one, much smaller, and didn't behave as loudly or as generally frighteningly as the canines.

The little critter leaned its head into my palm, rubbing against me and emitting an odd whirring sound from its throat. At first I thought it was growling, but the sound seemed content somehow and so I chose not to worry about it. As it came closer to curl up under my caressing fingers, John stirred.

"Good morning," he said. I twisted my neck to look at him out of the corner of my eye.

"Good morning," I returned. He set a kiss upon my cheek and ran his hand up and down my bare arm and I smiled contentedly, feeling very much like the cat—what was its name? Mrs. Sheridan had told me last night, but I couldn't remember.

"What is his name?" I asked, indicating the animal in question.

"Her name," he corrected, "it's a she. Her name is John." He grinned, looking faintly embarrassed by the appellation.

"John?" I echoed, "You named your cat after yourself? If you were Minbari, that would be considered… self-destructive."

"We had to give it his name," quipped a voice from beyond our feet. We raised out reads to look down and saw Mrs. Sheridan. "He was gone so much that we would've forgotten it if we didn't."

"But Earthforce—" John protested.

"It was always Earthforce this, Earthforce that," Mrs. Sheridan interrupted him. "Same old excuse."

"But it's true," he insisted weakly, overpowered by his mother. I giggled.

"A word to the wise, Delenn, honey," she tutted, "He'll make a horrible husband."

I felt heat shoot up from my shoulders to the roots of my hair, burning my ears. An embarrassed glance at John told me he felt the same.

"Mom," he muttered irritably. "Do you _always_ have to say that?" _Always? _I questioned, and stored it at the back of my mind to ask him about later.

"Oh shush, Johnny," Mrs. Sheridan said cheerfully and bustled out of the cottage, "You know I just can't help it. Besides, she has a right to know."

"It's not like we're engaged!" he called after her. I smothered another laugh as he groaned, slumping his head into his hands. "Ugh… I'm sorry about that." He peeked at me through the gap between two of his fingers. "She's…" he made a gesture that I thought vaguely resembled wringing a piece of cloth.

"It's alright," I assured him, though my face was still red. Did she really think that we were going to get married?

"Between her and dad and Lizzie and the kids…" he moaned. His father had acted inappropriately? I didn't think so. Perhaps I'd missed something.

"Will you stop apologizing for your family?" I urged, shifting to lie on my back to look at him more easily. John, the cat, lost interest in me and stalked away. "I believe I quite like them."

"Heh," John, the person, laughed humourlessly, "you just wait until you spend more time with them. _Then_ we'll see how you like them."

I smiled gently. "I intend to," I said softly, touching a hand to his face. He returned my smile and leaned forward, obviously about to kiss me again. Then I remembered that I'd wanted to ask him about 'always' and turned my head away. "When you were talking to your mother, you said that she '_always_ had to say that'. What were you referring to when you said 'always'?"

"When I was a teenager," he said, not looking too unnerved by the question. "Whenever I brought a girl home with me, she'd tell them that."

"You brought… _many_ girls home?" I echoed.

"Well, sort of," he clarified, "we were just dating, it's not like it was anything serious—wait, do you mean to tell me that Minbari don't date?"

"We occasionally…" I informed him carefully, "experiment with potential partners, but rarely more than three in a lifetime. The fourth partner is usually the final one, and if you were not satisfied with them, it is unlikely that you would ever marry."

He let his breath out in a long, low whistle. "That would put a lot of pressure on you to find the right person."

"No," I said, "it is our tradition."

Another thought seemed to occur to him—I could see it in the expression that entered his eyes. "How many have you…?"

I ducked my head to hide my flush. "You are my first," I admitted, and felt the need to justify my lacking of experience at such an age as my own. "My studies were very intense from my fifteenth—by your calendar, my twenty-first—year on. I didn't have a chance to—"

"You don't have to explain to me," he quieted me sympathetically. "I know how busy work can make a person."

We lay in comfortable silence for a moment, and then he said, "Why don't we go down to the dock? It looks like a nice enough day out there."

I glanced up through the window. The sky was solidly grey, with ominously darker patches in many areas. I turned back to John with an eyebrow raised.

"At least it's not raining," he grinned, sitting up. He pushed himself off the bed and shrugged his sleep-shirt off. I found myself staring, suddenly mesmerized. He caught me watching as he moved to find a new shirt for the day and I looked away hastily, blushing again.

I climbed off the bed and tugged my nightgown down to unravel the wrinkles it had accumulated of the course of the night and took a robe from my suitcase. I brought it with me to the bathroom, not quite as brave as John to undress in front of another.

The day robe was of similar design to those that I wore when not on duty as an Ambassador. It was simple, with only one layer instead of six thin ones, and ended halfway down my shins. The sleeves were mid-length, loosening only near the patterned ends. In colour, it was pale blue. It was, in all effects, a casual Minbari summer dress.

On Minbar, it had been subject to little use as the weather was frigid for the majority of the year, with only a week of truly hot weather during the summer months. It got less wear still on Babylon 5 than it had back on Minbar, as the temperature on the station was always pleasantly warm, but never hot enough to make wearing such a light gown practical. However, here on Earth, the temperatures seemed to always be at least a few degrees above Minbar's hottest days, and so the dress was quickly becoming one of my favourite garments.

I slipped into it and fixed my hair in the mirror, and then cautiously opened the door and ventured into the main room. To my relief, John had finished changing. I recognized his swim shorts from yesterday, and the top he had on was bright red and patterned with the outlines of large white flowers.

He gave me another bright grin when he saw me and offered his arm gallantly. I smiled and took it, setting my feet into my shoes as we went out the door. Halfway down the steep hill to the dock, I fully appreciated the awkwardness of wearing heels on a slippery slope. I stopped to take them off—as I'd kept falling and having to clutch at John's arm to keep myself up, nearly pulling him down with me once or twice—and walked the rest of the way barefoot, in unison delighted and disgusted by the feel of the cool mud squishing between my toes.

When we reached the jetty, there was no one there. "Where is everyone?" I wondered aloud.

"The canoe's gone," said John. "They probably went out for a ride."

"They can all fit inside it?" I questioned dubiously. It seemed highly unlikely.

He shrugged. "I guess so, because they're not here now."

The initial surprise of finding the dock empty seemed to wear off of him quickly, because before I knew it, he was pulling his shirt off and preparing to jump into the river. I shook my head slightly, amused by his eagerness.

"You coming in?" he asked. I stared at him: did he seriously think that I would? Correctly interpreting my look, he added, "You can just go in the shallows if you want. No worries of sinking there."

I considered it. I really did want to experience as much of Earth culture as I could, but swimming… especially after what had happened the first time I'd tried it… it just didn't appeal. At all.

Nevertheless, I found myself bravely (or very foolishly) vowing to come in later as I wasn't wearing my swimsuit at the moment. This seemed to cheer John up, because he grinned broadly and came over to give me a little hug.

"You won't regret it," he told me, "I promise. I'll even give you lessons if you want them." I smiled up at him, holding his face between my two hands.

"Thank you, John," I said whole-heartedly. "I would like that."

Our eyes locked together for another moment, before his slid closed and he captured my lips with his in one swift movement. Now fancying myself something of an expert in this custom, I curled my arms around his neck without hesitation. His shoulders were bare, which surprised me briefly until I remembered that he'd been about to go for a swim. As one of my hands began to drift down his back, I was startled again, illogically, to find the rest of his upper half was also lacking of clothing. I smiled into the kiss at my silliness and let both hands drop down to explore faster.

They ended up sliding up his chest and were about to return to his face to reposition it for better access to my once-upon-a-time enemy's mouth when a loud cough startled their owner and said ex-nemesis away from each other.

"Whoo," exclaimed Mr. Sheridan. "My my! When I got up during the night for a pee run, I saw you two just about as far as you could possibly be from each other on that bed. I _assumed_ that you weren't shmoochy, but I guess I was wrong. Veery wrong." The older man laughed and plunked himself down on the edge of the dock, getting out his fishing gear. Looking back up at us, he laughed again, "Oh, but don't let me stop you."

I didn't chance a look at John, or at anything other than the ground as I fled up the hill to the house, mortified. I stumbled a few times, getting mud on my hands and dress. Once inside, I sank down onto the bed and put my head in my hands, trying to control the hot blood pumping through my face.

When I'd calmed down a little, conquered at least some of my humiliation, I climbed up what had been the back of the couch and looked out the window. John was making his way up, and not at a particularly slow pace. Not quite ready to come face to face with him yet, I hurried out the door and crept away on one of the paths through the woods, hoping he didn't see me.

Twigs cracking behind me and rushing footsteps coming after me told me he had. In a few seconds, he'd reached me, and caught me by the shoulder. I refused to turn and faced away from him, arms wrapped protectively around myself.

He laughed, his voice slightly strained. "Well, I did warn you that they were insane." It was supposed to be funny, and it was, but I could barely smile at it. "Sorry," he apologized. Whether it was for the attempt at a joke or for the behaviour of his father, I wasn't sure.

"It's alright," I said automatically and then shook my head. I supposed that it should be okay, but I was still embarrassed beyond belief. His _father_ had just seen us _kissing_. If it had been just a little kiss, perhaps a peck on the cheek or even on the lips, it might have been alright. But no, he had to come in when we were as close as mortally possible, John had no shirt on, and I had my hands on his bare chest. His hands… I didn't even know where they were.

And then his father had walked in.

I shuddered with fresh mortification as I relived it.

"He's insane," he told me as though it would make me feel better. He paused for a few moments, and then continued, more seriously but choppily, "I'm sorry that happened. I shouldn't have—in public like that—should've known that someone would come—"

As I listened to him splutter apologies, I breathed deeply, taking in air and releasing my emotions. Finally, when he cut himself off, and I was ready to face him.

I pivoted about, embarrassment free, and smiled. "It's alright," I said, and it was.


End file.
